


new words for old desires

by MissELY



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Mates, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M, Veela Mates, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22904020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissELY/pseuds/MissELY
Summary: Fleur noticed her first.Bill technically met her first, but before his altercation with Greyback, he wasn’t been able to tell she was anything other than his youngest brother’s friend. There was something there, but he had attributed it to that she was whip smart, sweet, and that he could see in a few years she would make a witch or wizard very, very happy.But Fleur saw her for what she was first. Mate.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger/Bill Weasley
Comments: 31
Kudos: 287
Collections: completed read enjoyed





	new words for old desires

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Updated 7/25/20. Plot not changed at all, some mistakes corrected and some sentences were rearrainged.
> 
> Title from the lyrics of the song Left and Leaving by The Weakerthans

Fleur noticed her first.

Bill technically met her first. But before his altercation with Greyback, he wasn't able to tell she was anything other than his youngest brother’s friend. There was _something_ there, but he attributed it to her being whip smart, sweet, and that he could see in a few years she would make a witch or wizard very, very happy.

But Fleur saw her for what she was first.

Mate.

* * *

_Years later, Bill would say that he had known._

_“I could sense it then. Of course, I didn’t say anything though, couldn’t very well go off with a fourteen year old when I was twenty-three. Can you imagine Mum’s reaction? She would have beaten the shit out of me with her least favorite frying pan.”_

_Fleur would always roll her eyes and mutter in French about how he could say that now, but that the first time she had mentioned their third Bill had fallen out of his chair in shock._

_“I remember William." Her French accent was still audible, but much softer than it had been. "How when I suggested that the sweet little witch who was always stuck to your brother’s side was our third, all the blood drained out of your face and you lost your balance and could not even stutter out a reply.”_

_“Yeah love, but by the end of the week I was making your eyes roll back in your head; rubbing your clit and talking about how good that sweet little witch would look bouncing on my cock or with her head between your legs.”_

_“WILLIAM” two voices chorused, reprimanding him for his filthy mouth. At least when he used it outside of their bedroom. Sometimes._

* * *

When Fleur came to Hogwarts for the Tournament, she knew that her mate was there, somewhere among the pasty British schoolchildren looking in awe at the Abraxans. She knew it the moment the carriage had touched down. Her diluted ancestry made it impossible to pinpoint exactly which one of the wizards or witches lined up it was. But she still scoured their upturned faces, in search of a spark.

The feeling got stronger in the confined area of the Great Hall. Her excuse of wanting more bouillabaisse from the Gryffindor table was simply a ruse to let her wander, to try to find her mate. She ambled across the large room, trying to get a hold of the tether between her and her mate, trying to pull the person on the other end closer.

It took her half a second after arriving at the table with an abnormal number of redheads to pinpoint the young girl with the riotous curls.

Her. Hers. Her mate.

Fleur sent out a pulse of joy and recognition and contentment down the nascent bond.

She watched as the younger girl straightened suddenly, as if it had shocked her.

Fleur turned her back to her mate, pressing down the urge to sweep the slight girl with too much hair up in her arms and nuzzle into her neck. Instead, she just let a satisfied smile stretched across her lips, carrying the bowl of bouillabaisse carefully back to the Ravenclaw table.

It took her a week to learn her mate’s name: Hermione Granger.

* * *

 _"I felt it. The pulse you sent. I attributed it to the passing of a ghost, but I had never felt so warm from an interaction with a ghost._ _It was like a tropical ocean breeze that sent a shiver up my spine. It was delicious, and comforting, and I just wanted to bask in the feeling.”_

_“Mon âme, you were like sunshine after too long in the dark.”_

_Fleur gathered Hermione to her, giving herself a lap full of brunette witch, nuzzling close into her neck and giving it kittenish licks, allowing herself to do what she had not been able to do that evening so many years ago._

* * *

Fleur chose not to say anything to her mate, to Hermione. She learned that the girl was best friends with the fourth champion, that Harry Potter, who somehow got entered into a competition he had no business being in. She wasn’t sure a declaration that they were mates would go over well. And the other girl was _so young_. 

But what really stopped Fleur was that she could sense something coming. Like how animals hid in advance of earthquakes, there was some part of her that knew that something terrible was on its way, and that it might be safer for her petite lionne not to be so closely linked with what the British Ministry considered a creature.

It took all her will power to stay away during the Yule Ball, when her mate had looked so lovely and soft. It was even harder not to rush to her side and comfort her when that nasty woman wrote those articles, and her poor darling got hate mail. She forced herself to watch quietly from the Ravenclaw table, being sure to take down the names of those who had sent her mate such viciousness.

* * *

_“You should've said something.”_

_“You were a bébé mon âme. I couldn’t put that on you. You had to finish your education, you had to grow up outside of the shadow of being a veela’s mate.”_

_“I know. I know you’re right. I would have reacted…not well. But I think fourteen year old me would have liked to know how loved she was. And it would have saved me a lot of heartache and confusion a few years later.”_

_“Mon âme—”_

_“No, it worked out. And I would never change a thing and risk not having this. Having us.”_

_“Je t’aime.”_

_“Je t’aime aussi.”_

* * *

Fleur met Bill right before the third task. She again, knew.

He again, hadn’t.

They parted ways after ten minutes of conversation with a promise to write.

But he was so eager for her that she talked him into bed in two owls or less.

* * *

_“I knew you were fit, smart, and talking to me. That was enough for me, love.” Bill gave Fleur a soft smile._

_Fleur arched an eyebrow, a wicked smile playing at her lips. “You were rather...easy. Yes.”_

_He pressed a kiss onto the corner of her smiling mouth. “For you, love, only for you and our girl.”_

_Her hand came up to pat his cheek._

_“I know mon loup.”_

* * *

Two mates were rather common for veela, so Fleur hadn’t been surprised. 

That’s not to say that she was not without concern. She was nervous how Bill would react to Hermione, how Hermione would take the news. She knew that her two mates would also have a bond between the two of them, so asking to bring in another would not be a purely selfish move on her part. Even if neither of them could see it now, she knew that once they were all in a relationship, Hermione and Bill would fall deeply in love. They had so much in common already; an eagerness and curiosity, generous spirits, passion, kindness.

She was worried that their third, that Hermione, was stuck in school for four more years. And she was even more terrified about the resurrection that had happened after the nightmare that was the Third Task, and what that might mean for such a prominent Muggleborn and the scion of a family of blood traitors.

So she got a job at the London branch of Gringotts. In part to lure Bill back to the U.K., so that they could both be close to Hermione. But also because the Goblins had access to information that might help the Light in the brewing war.

Her die had been cast the moment she stepped off the carriage. Where Hermione Granger went, so Fleur followed. Whether the other witch knew it or not.

* * *

_Hermione fixed an amused look on Fleur. “Mon coeur, how long did it take you to convince Bill to move back home?”_

_Fleur's mouth twisted into a smirk. “I told him I had accepted a position in London and his reply a day later was that he coincidentally had also accepted a transfer to London.”_

_“Oh, fast then," said Hermione, grinning widely._

_“I checked the paperwork once I started working there. He put in for a transfer five minutes after he got my owl.”_

_Hermione giggled, a sound Fleur thought sounded like joyful bells. “So he was eager.”_

_Fleur examined her nails, with faux disinterest, though she couldn't fully keep the laughter out of her voice.“I would hope so, seeing as how I had rocked his world less than a week before. As you’ve told me many times, my pussy is magical.”_

_“Fleur! Language! You’ve spent too much time around our husband!”_

* * *

It took three months of Bill and Fleur dating for Fleur to bring Hermione up. She had made sure that Hermione was already sixteen and legal before breaching the topic.

To ease him into it, she brought him several books on veela mating habits, specifically focusing on ones about triads. 

Bill wasn’t dumb, he got the hint pretty fast.

After finishing the first chapter of the first book he tried to wrack his brain on who their third might be. Someone he wasn’t related to, who Fleur had come into contact with. Probably British, given her decision to work in London, and her happiness at the news that he was transferring. Maybe someone she met at Hogwarts? Or maybe it was someone who visited the castle while she was there? That didn’t really narrow the field any.

He finished two books and then sat at their kitchen table, his palms pressed into his eyes as he tried to compile worst case scenario plans.

If it was someone unacceptable, someone like Snape, or Dumbledore, or Rita Skeeter, what would he do? He supposed he wouldn’t mind too much if it was another bloke. He never really experimented, but he could admit that there were some fit male Quidditch players out there. 

All the sources assured him that the mates of a veela were also destined to love each other.

But he had never put much stock in fate or prophecies, or divination.

He changed his mind about prophecies a few months later.

So all he could do was pace and wait for Fleur to come back from visiting her sister.

* * *

_“You could have told me yourself, love, instead of dropping a pile of books in my lap and demanding I read them before you returned the next day.” Bill's voice had just a tinge of exasperation from the memory of how frantic he had been._

_“Mon coeur, he’s right." Hermione said, brushing a hand through his red hair. "That would probably have been the best tactic to take with me, but our Bill has always done best with conversations at the kitchen table with plenty of tea”_

_Fleur gave a very Gallic shrug. “I did not want to deal with questions better answered by books. The alternative plan I came up with was to simply ask him if he thought you were attractive, and tell him I found you delicious.”_

_“I don’t think that would have gone over well either.”_

* * *

Fleur had floo’d in, not a hair out of place, and he had not been able to stop himself, blurting out his question .

“So who is it? Who is your other mate?” It all came out at once, words too close together and almost jumbling together.

“ _Our_ other mate,” she corrected, hanging up her coat and placing her bag down.

“Fine. Who is _our_ other mate?”

“Hermione Granger.”

He turned white and sat down hard on the armchair closest to him.

“Her-herm-Hermione?”

“Yes mon amour. Hermione Granger, you know, the best friend of your brother and Harry Potter?”

“She’s—Merlin—she’s—”

“Sixteen, yes, I know.”

“You haven’t—I mean, I would know if you—you haven’t said anything to her. Right?”

“No, not yet. She was, still is, a _bébé,_ even though she is of age. And there is too much _soucis_ , too much worry right now.”

“Oh. So. You will?”

“ _We will_ William. She is ours.”

“Oh.”

It had taken him a week to recover before he had started incorporating fantasies about her, about their girl, into the bedroom.

* * *

_“I never thought you loved me any less because there was a third. It was just a shock that it was Hermione.” Bill looked up at Fleur, his eyes wide and honest._

_“I know. You were...eager once you became accustomed to the idea. It was easier than I expected to get you on board with the idea.”_

_“I knew Hermione, a little, from the previous summer. And I could see how lovely she’d be, how well she would fit with us. It wasn’t a hardship to say yes. Of course I was eager, love, what straight red-blooded male wouldn’t love the idea of two beautiful and smart women in his bed.”_

_“And you were so creative with the tales you wove in the two years we had to suffer her absence.”_

_Bill's smile was sharp and dirty. “The real thing is so much better.”_

_“So much.”_

* * *

Announcing their couple-dom to his family was somewhat of an accident. Bill had let slip to Charlie that he was seeing Fleur, and then Charlie brought it up at a family dinner, not realizing that Bill was keeping it quiet.

Hermione happened to be at that family dinner, and his eyes had flashed to her when Charlie ran his mouth. He watched a moue of dismay formed on her lips. 

He wondered if it was because she was sad he was seeing someone, or if it was because she was sad Fleur was seeing someone.

* * *

_“It was both. More you, Bill, at that time at least. I only knew Fleur from a distance. Beautiful, untouchable, ethereal. Of course I thought she was unbelievably attractive. She was the first witch that made me realize I wasn’t entirely straight. The fantasies I had about her, Merlin. But you, I had a more concrete crush on. When you would sit and read with me, when you would talk to me like I had a brain in my head, I fell a little in love with you.”_

_Fleur leaned forward, having stopped listening at the mention of fantasies. “Fantasies? What fantasies are these ma lionne?”_

_“Yes, please do share sweet.” Bill looked equally eager._

_Hermione grinned, a filthy look that both her lovers were familiar with. “Well, I would imagine that Fleur would pull me into an empty classroom after dinner one day. She would press her mouth against mine and thread her fingers through my hair, pulling it hard, like I love. Then she would ruck up my school skirt and pull aside my panties. She would finger me until I was a babbling mess, and then would make me eat her out until she came all over my face.”_

_“Merlin.” Bill groaned._

_“I used to have to silence my curtains when I masturbated to that fantasy because I would come so hard I would scream.”_

_“Ma lionne. I would be happy to...re-enact that fantasy.” Fleur said, her pupils blown wide._

_“Let me watch.” Bill said, clamoring out of the chair he was lounging in to stand._

_Hermione grabbed both of their hands and dragged them back to their room, an eager smile on her face._

* * *

Bill asked Fleur to marry him after a year of dating.

They discussed it extensively. Both of them wanted to wait for Hermione, so they could have a proper triad ceremony. It already felt strange, that they would one day (soon, hopefully) ask her to come into this fully formed relationship. They wanted her to have equal footing. They wanted her not feel like she was the third wheel in a marriage.

But circumstances stole that choice.

Arthur got wind of a new Ministry regulation on part-humans, it would have prevented Fleur from remaining in the country unless she married a British wizard. Umbridge had put it forward, and it was likely to pass.

So they decided to get married.

The compromise they came to was that their ceremony would not be a traditional magical bonding, it would be closer to a Muggle ceremony. This meant that the marriage would be on paper and registered with the Ministry, just enough to satisfy the new law.

They wanted to wait until Hermione was ready to wed them both for a true, traditional bonding ceremony.

* * *

_“It’s selfish, but I’m glad you waited.” Hermione leaned into Fleur's hand, which was gently combing through her curls._

_Bill leaned in, kissing Hermione's forehead. “It’s not selfish, sweet. We wanted to wait for you too. It was hard enough getting married, with you in the audience when you should have bloody well been up there with us.”_

_“It’s true mon âme. I had to convince Bill not to grab you and march you up to stand with us, as it were. I wanted to make you a bridesmaid, but I was convinced that if I did, I would not be able to stop Bill or myself from including you as our wife in the ceremony.”_

_Hermione giggled. “Can you imagine Molly’s face if you had?”_

* * *

Before they wed though, Greyback had attacked. 

Bill had awoken in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, disoriented and in pain. He felt Fleur holding his hand and had a sharp sense of satisfaction. She smelled like oranges and sunshine, bright and welcoming.

Something new and feral in his chest purred in contentment.

Mate, it said.

But he could tell there was still something missing. The scent of roses and parchment had caught his attention. He sensed it, a few feet from his bed, not as close as the woman who smelled bright, but near enough to calm the restless energy that had blossomed in his chest.

At that second he knew.

He knew what Fleur had meant by _mate_ finally, had known that Hermione belonged with them. That they were his mates, were his pack. 

His eyes opened and he was subjected to hugs by his family. Both of his mates also hugged him, both of them lingering nearby as he discussed what happened with various authorities. It made his physical pain easy to deal with.

* * *

_“Being savaged by Greyback had its upsides.” Bill said, a crooked grin on his face._

_Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, now when I cook, your meat always takes the shortest amount of time. It cuts down on the work.”_

_Bill laughed, surprised. “Sure sweet. But also, I realized what Fleur meant when she said she knew it was me and you, that we were it for her. Being partially turned let me know with certainty that you two were meant for me. I trusted Fleur, that she was right about you, Hermione. But there was something about knowing for myself, being able to smell you, the both of you, and feel like wherever the two of you were was home._

* * *

Molly was not happy that they were not getting a traditional bonding. Fleur’s parents equally perturbed.

Fleur had explained to her parents—in rapid-fire French a day before the ceremony—about their third, about why they had to wait to actually bond. The older French couple had accepted it, and Gabrielle, ever the little eavesdropper, had heard as well. All of them made a point to have several conversations with Hermione during their short visit. By the end, they all approved, though they still wished that Fleur would just bring her mates to France, away from the brewing war.

Bill decided not to tell Molly or Arthur. He was sure that his dad would've been able to handle the news. But he knew his mother would not have that same level of restraint. She would have thrown a fit. And dad wasn’t always wonderful at keeping secrets from his wife.

So Bill kept the reasoning quiet, just telling his parents that they were planning on doing the ceremony in private, later.

Molly had been unhappy about it, and Arthur had been confused, but they had both stopped asking.

* * *

_“Our real wedding was much better,” both Bill and Fleur would say. The only photo they kept from their first wedding was one where the bride and the groom had cajoled Hermione on to the dance floor and were twirling her around with them._

* * *

The war was hard.

Knowing that Hermione was in danger, that there was very little they could do, it was maddening.

For Bill it had been even more of a problem. He was new to the feelings brought on by his partial lycanthropy, and had to struggle to keep his protective instincts in check.

There were nights during the war when Fleur would gentle her fingers down the scars Greyback left and tell Bill stories about the life they would have, one day soon, the three of them. The adventures they would go on, the knowledge they would acquire, the home they would make.

* * *

 _"The first full moon after their wedding I was forced to ward the door so that he wouldn’t go running in search of you, Hermione._ _The next morning I asked if he had a plan. Do you know what he did? He shrugged and said, '_ _No, not really. Get her, I guess? Carry her over my shoulder back to the cottage?”'_

* * *

It was hardest though, when Dobby had brought them all to Shell Cottage. After Malfoy Manor.

Bill saw Dobby arrive though a cottage window. He had run over, quick enough to catch Hermione before she hit the sandy beach. He barely refrained from growling at Ron as Ron tried to reach for the unconscious girl. Bill practically ran back to the cottage, carrying Hermione, oblivious to the two boys he left behind.

He was greeted at the door by Fleur, who had taken one look at the young woman and let out a choked sob. Her hands curled into fists, and BIll watched as she struggled to hold herself together, obviously trying to tamp down her instinct to change then and there out of sheer distress. Her fingernails became claws and cut into her palms. She didn’t notice until Bill pointed it out, later that night.

* * *

_“It was awful” Bill’s voice was low and ragged. They didn’t talk about Malfoy Manor or the period of time directly after it, when Hermione had spent her time either sleeping fitfully, lost in nightmares, or staring blankly at the wall._

_“I never—” Fleur’s voice caught in her throat. “I have never been so scared, so angry, so helpless, as I was then.”_

_“You both saved me.”_

* * *

Fleur was the one to help Hermione care for herself, after she was healed of the worst of her injuries. Fleur helped Hermione into the shower, hands gently stripping her of soiled clothes, smoothing warm water gently over bruises and cuts.

Hermione leaned heavily against the other woman, her curly head against Fleur's shoulder, face turned into her neck. She was a too-light weight in Fleur’s arms. The women stayed under the hot spray of the shower for longer than necessary. Fleur carefully worked shampoo and conditioner into Hermione’s hair, brushing out tangles with her fingers, careful not to pull.

After Hermione was clean and her skin had regained a tinge of pink, Fleur eased her out of the shower and into a warm robe, bundling up her mate gently before casting a quick drying charm on the waterlogged clothes Fleur had worn into the shower.

Leading her by the hand like she would a child, Fleur brought Hermione to her and Bill’s bedroom, unwilling to put her in a guest bedroom, needing to keep her close.

Fleur tucked Hermione into the center of their bed, the one they had bought that was too large for the two of them, but would be the perfect size for three. 

“Can I stay here with you? In case you need something at night?” Fleur asked, cupping Hermione’s cheek in her pale, shaking hand.

“Yes.” Hermione’s reply was soft, but audible and sure.

Fleur laid down on the bed, to the left of Hermione, over the covers, not touching the other woman, wanting to give her space.

Hermione’s hand emerged from the blankets and grabbed Fleur by the wrist. She pulled the other woman closer, insistent. Fleur hesitated for a second, but moved closer. Hermione did not stop tugging her closer until Fleur was pressed right up against her, blonde head resting on Hermione’s heart.

Fleur half sung-half whispered the French lullabies her mother had sung to her as a child to help Hermione sleep. The rhythmic beating of her mate's heart soothed Fleur to sleep and Hermione’s sleep came easier than it should have because of the weight of the other woman, holder her down, keeping her grounded.

* * *

_“When I walked in, after, it was the first time I felt whole, ever. Seeing both of you in our bed. It was like coming home.” Bill's tone was reverential and nearly a whisper._

_Hermione grabbed his hand, smoothing her thumb over a scar on his knuckles. “I was awake when you got in.”_

_“I know." A small smile emerged on his face. "I was going to grab pyjamas and sleep on the couch, but you stopped me.”_

_“It was—I was still out of it. But I felt like I needed you to be there. I asked you…” Hermione trailed off, trying to remember._

_“You asked me to stay. You said that you—that you needed it, needed me, and I couldn’t say no. And you pulled me down on to the bed, on your other side, and wouldn’t settle back down until you were as close to me as possible.”_

_“I woke up feeling safe. At that point, I hadn’t felt safe in years.”_

_Bill gathered up Hermione in his arms and kissed the crown of her head. “You make me feel safe too, sweet.”_

* * *

Hermione spent the rest of her time at Shell Cottage sleeping in their bedroom, in their bed, between the two of them.

She had offered—after two nights, once she was feeling more herself—to move. But Fleur shook her head adamantly, and Bill held her closer, seemingly trying to keep her from leaving the bed.

Hermione didn’t argued and stayed.

* * *

_“I thought that maybe there weren’t enough bedrooms. Or that my condition was more serious than you two were letting on, and that you needed to keep an eye on me. By the time I really started to question it, we were about to leave.”_

_Fleur's expression was serious as she regarded Hermione. “Those days with you with us, ma lionne, were the happiest days we had in the war.”_

_Hermione leaned in to brush a kiss over Fleur's lips. “For me to mon coeur. Me too.”_

* * *

Letting Hermione go was harder than either Bill or Fleur had thought it would be. They knew that the war was bigger than the two of them, the three of them. But they still had a hard time.

She had her strength back, well some of it. She was still scary skinny and had trouble sleeping through the night, but she was well enough to continue on. So she packed up, and got ready to head out.

Bill and Fleur helped as much as they could. Bill tried to warn Harry not to trust Griphook. Fleur made sure that Hermione had all of the healing potions she needed. Both of them spent the last night with Hermione cuddled close to her, holding hands, fingers woven together.

The next morning after Hermione had popped off to Gringotts they held each other close and whispered promises and prayers, hoping that their mate would return, safe, that they could build a life together.

When they got the notification that the battle was happening at Hogwarts a short time later, they hoped to see Hermione there, to be able to protect her, protect each other, survive, win.

* * *

_“We didn’t know if you were alive, going into the battle.” Fleur’s hands wrung together, remembering the anxiety and uncertainty of battle._

_“I barely remember the battle itself." Hermione admitted. "It was chaos, and after so long...I remember seeing both of you though. Flashes at least.”_

_“We tried to keep track of you, of each other, of the family. The Great Hall, do you remember sitting on the steps?” Bill placed a gentle hand on Fleur’s back and used the other to tuck a fly away piece of hair behind Hermione’s ear._

_“Yes. I was so tired. You sat next to me, Fleur sat on the stair above me, her legs on either side of me. I leaned back to rest on her and you held my hand.”_

* * *

The aftermath of war was never pretty. And it certainly hadn’t been after the Battle of Hogwarts.

After the battle there were the funerals. Fred’s was hard. The joint one for Remus and Tonks was almost moreso. 

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and cried silently as the couple was lowered into the ground. Andromeda stood, a ghost in black, holding little Teddy Lupin in her arms. She looked so lost.

Hermione pulled herself together enough to go to the other woman’s house the next day.

She made herself busy there, helping take care of the baby, helping cook and clean. Tasks that allowed her to keep busy and not to think too much.

What do you do after the war is won, if war is all you’ve ever known?

She still saw the others. Harry and Ron had immediately accepted places in Auror training. Hermione couldn’t stomach the thought of more fighting, so she had turned down her own offer to join.

Newspaper articles ran, speculating about the private lives of the Golden Trio. They were always partially right. Harry and Ginny were back together, serious about building something bright after all the dark. 

But she and Ron were never more than an adrenaline fueled kiss in the Chamber of Secrets. They hadn’t explicitly talked about it, but they had, by silent mutual accord, done nothing to pursue the relationship. Ron started dating around a few months later, happy to use his newfound fame to get some “fit birds” as he was fond of saying.

Hermione didn’t pursue much of a social life. She still remembered how safe she felt, curled between Fleur and Bill back at Shell Cottage. Warm, safe.

Loved.

She thought about going back there, going to go see them. But she always dismissed the thought as nonsense. They were a lovely married _couple_ who had been kind enough to heal her after she was tortured. They deserved privacy and peace so they could build a family together, _just the two of them_.

She got the invitation to return to Hogwarts to finish her schooling, and she turned that down too. Too much had happened. The thought of going back, being a student, back in classes with teachers taking house points felt so distant.

So she stayed with Andromeda and Teddy, making the excuse that she was researching a way to bring her parent’s memories back.

She knew though, had known when she obliviated them, that Muggles can’t get their memories back after that spell. That it was a one way street.

* * *

_“We talked nearly every day about going to Andi’s. About going to collect you.” Bill said earnestly._

_“We talked to each other into and out of it more times than I could count.” Fleur rolled her eyes at the memory._

_“Why didn’t you?”_

_“It was too sharp. We wanted to give you time to heal, to find yourself outside of your identity as the Brightest Witch of Her Age, out of the shadow of Harry and the war," said Fleur, leaning in to rest her head above Hermione's heart, like she had that first night in Shell Cottage._

_Bill pressed his lips together, looking away. “We were also scared. That you would say no. That you would reject us. Our bond.”_

_“Silly,” Hermione’s voice was affectionate. “I would never, could never tell you to no. Not even then.”_

* * *

Hermione got a letter from the two of them. It invited her to dinner. 

Andi was happy Hermione was getting out of the house to see someone other than Harry and Ron, and insisted she go.

The war had been done for three months, and Hermione was studying to take her NEWTs in September. Her plan after that was to accept an apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s as a Healer. It felt good that she would use some of her hard won skills to help and heal and not hurt.

She dressed nicely. Nicer than usual at any rate.

Her hands smoothed the front of her skirt and she wondered which other Weasleys would be there. Maybe Charlie. She heard he hadn’t returned to Romania yet. George was working at the shop again, but he hadn’t been socializing much.

She apparated to Shell Cottage.

* * *

_“A letter. You invited me to a dinner that would change my life via letter.”_

_“You should be glad that I didn’t indulge Fleur’s flair for the dramatic. She wanted us to send you a portkey directly and whisk you away on a romantic vacation as soon as you arrived.”_

_“I told you Bill. We could have changed her life while overlooking the Mediterranean in a lovely Italian villa. In my plan we would have seduced you, taken you to ben, and then told you that you were ours. As I had it planned you would be so well-fucked that you would accept us with no questions.”_

_“In the dinner’s defense, it was very nice.”_

* * *

She arrived in time to see Bill walk out of the front door of the cottage. For a second she half remembered the last time she had arrived, bloody, disoriented, and not fully there. He had run out of the house then, had swept her up in his arms and–

“We’re so happy you’re here Hermione.” His deep voice broke through her unpleasant memories. He was smiling at her, looking at her like she hung the moon.

“I was happy to receive the invitation Bill. Thank you for inviting me.”

His hand was warm on her lower back as he guided her towards the front door.

Waiting in the door frame was Fleur, her blonde hair caught up in an artful bun, wearing clothes that might have been designer given how fine they looked on her. Her smile was warm and welcoming to Hermione.

Fleur swept the other woman up in a warm hug. “I’m so glad you're here.” Fleur’s whispered the words over Hermione’s neck, making a chill run through her.

“I am too.”

* * *

_“Were you surprised that there was no one else? You said you thought that other family might be there.”_

_“I was surprised. At first I thought that the others were running late. It wasn’t until I saw the table set for three that I realized that you had only invited me. Then I got nervous.”_

* * *

They were halfway through dessert when Hermione finally asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue since she realized that the dinner was only for the three of them.

There was a lull in the conversation and Hermione took her chance.

“So, I was very happy to be invited to dinner, but, I have to ask. Why?” She winced. That did not sound as gracious as she had hoped it would be.

Her cringe did not stop her from seeing the look that Fleur and Bill exchanged.

“Well,” started Fleur, “what do you know about veela mates?”

* * *

_“I sort of thought that you were about to give me a research problem to solve, not to tell me that we were mates.”_

* * *

“Not a whole lot,” admitted Hermione. “I know they exist. I know that veela suffer without their mates. I know that there is some sort of bond involved.”

“That is correct. Veela can recognize their mates because we have a bond with them. It’s like a...string. It runs between the veela and the mate. Or mates. The string becomes a rope when the veela bonds with their mate.”

“Okay.” Hermione took a healthy swallow of wine, wondering where this was going. Surely if Fleur was with Bill, he was her mate.

“Werewolf mates are similar,” offered up Bill. Hermione’s eyes flicked to him and watched as his ears turned red. “It’s not a bond in the same way, or at least it isn't for me. It’s a smell, for me. Nothing has ever smelled as good to me.”

Hermione nodded, slowly, understanding what they were telling her, but not what it had to do with her or why they had invited her over to dinner.

“You’re ours.” Fleur said after a minute of silence. The normally brave and brash French woman was blushing, her cheeks very red and her hands clenched around each other in her lap.

“I’m your mate? But Bill?”

Bill placed his hand on Hermione’s which was resting on the table.

“You both of ours. Your her mate, and your my mate. You’re ours.”

“I—” Hermione looked between the two of them helplessly. This had not been a conversation she was at all prepared for. 

“We know it’s a lot.” Fleur untwisted her hands from each other and grabbed Hermione’s free hand in both of hers. “But we want you here with us. We want to date you. We want to woo you. We want you to be ours, in every way you’ll have us.”

Hermione’s hands tightened around both of theirs and she closed her eyes, desperately trying to think.

“I—I need information. Do you have—” she cut herself off as she heard a thump on the table. She opened her eyes and saw that half a dozen books had made their way to the table. Their covers proclaimed them to be histories, biology books, and personal accounts of werewolf and veela mates and mating habits.

Hermione let out a shaky breath in response and nodded sharply. “Okay. Good. Can I—?”

“You can take them home. Take all the time you need. We’ll be here. We know it’s a lot of information to put on you. And—” Bill took a breath. “And we want you. We will wait. But you have a choice. We will be anything you want us to be to you. Everything to you, if you’d let us. But you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

Hermione shook her head, the movement almost involuntary. “I mean. I think I—I’ve had crushes on both of—” she shook her head again to try to regain some level of control. “Thank you. For the books. And dinner.”

She squeezed both of their hands then released them and stood from the table. Fleur and Bill exchanged a look behind her back that she didn’t see. Hermione busied herself, gathering and shrinking the books so that they would fit in her pocket. 

She gave both of them a shaky smile and walked right out the front door.

* * *

_“We thought we had fucked up so badly. Seeing you walk through that door sweet, it was torture.”_

_“From my perspective, two beautiful people who I had crushed on, who I thought were in a committed_ _monogamous_ _relationship asked me to be their third because it was fated. Forgive me if I was in shock.”_

* * *

Hermione was gone for less than two minutes. Fleur and Bill were still sitting at the table when she burst through the door, out of breath.

“I have questions.”

Bill, whose shoulders had slumped, immediately straightened. “Of course.”

Hermione sat down back at the table and conjured ink, quill and parchment, ready to take notes.

Fleur looked down, a small smile tucked into the corners of her mouth.

“When did it start?”

* * *

_“You both were very good at answering my questions that night.”_

_“Ma lionne, you asked questions until about one in the morning. You wrote two feet of parchment on notes. We finally had to drag you to a guest bedroom and promise you more answers in the morning in order to get some sleep.”_

_“I was...eager to have the information.”_

_“I was so tempted that night to try to shut you up in another, more carnal way.”_

_“I don’t think I would have been able to take good notes on that.”_

_“No, your hands would have been busy. And your mouth. And your—”_

_“WILLIAM.”_

* * *

Hermione stayed the night. She woke in the morning, lounging in the warm sunshine pouring through the window in the guest room. It took her a second to remember why she was here.

She sat bolt upright and bolted out of bed. As she opened the door, she heard the sounds of Fleur humming softly while preparing breakfast. Bill was sitting at the table, flipping through the Prophet half heartedly.

When they heard her footsteps approach, they both looked in her direction, warm but cautious smiles on their faces.

“Would you like breakfast?” Fleur asked.

“Do you have more questions?” Bill asked at the exact same time. 

Fleur frowned at Bill. “Food first. There is plenty of time for questions later.”

Bill raised his hands in defeat and Fleur bustled around the kitchen, making Hermione a plate.

In a daze Hermione sat down at the table and accepted the plate from Fleur without a world.

She found her voice after a minute of comfortable silence.

“So. To recap: You think that I might be your mate.”

“You are.” Chorused Fleur and Bill.

“Okay. And—” she broke herself off but then gathered her Gryffindor courage and forced herself to continue, “and you actually want me. It’s not just some biological compulsion?” By the end of her question her voice petered off softly.

Bill scowled darkly at her question and Fleur looked heartbroken.

“Non, non, non mon âme. It’s not like that. To be a mate, it is not simply biology. It means that Magic has chosen you for us, that we are compatible in _every_ way.”

Fleur’s hands fluttered in distress and her accent became more pronounced.

“This isn’t just biology for us Hermione. We were raised to trust magic, that it would provide. So we trust that magic has chosen mates for use that are not just attractive, but that are our match intellectually, emotionally, socially, and yes, physically.”

“We are not simply looking to have you in our bed.”

“We would like you there though, very much.” Bill interrupted, his dark expression softening to something cheekier.

“Bill!” Fleur reprimanded huffing in frustration. “You are not just someone to bed for us. You are—you would be an equal part of this relationship.”

Hermione pressed her lips together.

* * *

_“When you told me what I could be to you, what I would be to you, it sounded too good to be true.”_

_“I never understood, you’re a beautiful woman mon âme, beautiful and smart and kind. Why would you think that we would not want you in every way we could have you?”_

_“I had never—I had limited experience in relationships. I had never really been viewed as a woman before you two.”_

* * *

After breakfast Hermione left again, for real this time. She promised to owl the next day, after she read some of the books they gave her.

She owled that same day with more questions. Bill and Fleur dutifully answered every single one of them and replied within the hour.

They exchanged three more letters that day.

She returned for dinner that same day. And then again the next, and the next, and the next.

They would invite her to stay the night after every dinner. Sometimes she would, sometimes she wouldn’t. It never led to anything other than long hugs and lingering touches, and chaste kisses on the corner of her mouth or her forehead. But they told her, over and over, that she was welcome to stay, forever, if she wanted.

She moved in three weeks later, right after she finished her NEWTS.

* * *

_“Andi was very supportive.”_

_“We know. We sent her a fruit basket after you showed up on our door with your trunks.”_

* * *

They hadn’t told people at first. Hermione because it was new, and despite the assurances of her mates? Spouses? Significant others? Boyfriend and girlfriend? She was still unsure of her footing. They had been married for over a year, and here she was, just barely eighteen.

She slept in a spare room at first.

The first night was awkward. Hermione showed up on their doorstep at 5pm on a Friday, having just completed her Transfiguration NEWT and they welcomed her into the house with open arms, unable to keep the ecstatic smiles off of their faces.

After that dinner, Hermione fell into the routine she had built after their many dinners. She helped Bill clear the table and then put a kettle on for tea.

“So,” Bill’s deep, uncertain voice broke through her routine, “about sleeping arrangements…”

Hermione started. How had she not thought about that. Where would she sleep? She could stay in the room she used when she stayed over. But would they expect her to—?

“I’mavirgin,” the words spilled out of Hermione, all at once, cheeks burning bright red.

“We figured as much,” Fleur said, airy and unconcerned.

Bill grabbed Hermione’s hand, looking at her seriously. “We will go as slow as you want. You’re in control here.”

Hermione gave him a half embarrassed smile, still blushing. “I know. Thank you. I think—I think I’ll sleep in the spare room. For now.”

Fleur gave Hermione a look that promised mischief and pleasure and Bill grinned down at her, pleased.

“For now.” He echoed.

* * *

_“I heard you two, those first few weeks. I heard my name sometimes.”_

_“We know sweet. After the first two days we stopped putting up silencing charms.”_

_Hermione choked on her laugh. “Of course. So you wanted me to hear?”_

_“Oh yes, mon âme. We even were leaving our door open by the end, hoping you would come in and choose to join us.”_

_Hermione could only laugh._

* * *

It took two weeks of living together for Fleur to actually snog her properly. 

They were having a heated discussion in the kitchen about the origin of the rune _fehu_ when it was used in the Baltic countries in the 1400s. Fleur’s eyes sparked dangerously as the two women went back and forth, not quite yelling, but still passionate. 

“You’re not taking in the proper context!” Hermione exclaimed.

“I’m not—argh” Fleur breached the distance between the two of them and pressed her lips to Hermione’s.

It was spectacular.

Immediately Hermione leaned into the kiss, melting against the veela, arms wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her closer.

The kiss started fierce, but then eased into something more gentle, but still insistent. Fleur ran her tongue across the seam of Hermione’s lips and the brunette parted them easily letting Fleur in.

The sensation of Fleur pressed up against her, tongue in her mouth, hands gripping her tightly made Hermione whimper, involuntary, in the back of her throat.

In response, Fleur pressed in further, walking them both back until she pressed Hermione up against a wall.

Their kiss lasted what must have been minutes, but what felt longer.

When Fleur pulled away, both women were panting. Hermione ran her tongue over her kiss-bruised lips, arms still holding Fleur close.

The blonde leaned her head down on to Hermione’s shoulder and turned her head to give a gentle kiss to the other woman’s pulse point.

That’s when Bill cleared his throat from the doorway.

* * *

_“I thought you would be mad.”_

_“It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen.”_

* * *

Hermione tried to jump back from Fleur, but she was so snug between the wall and the veela, that she had no place to go.

Fleur laughed breathlessly, head still tucked by Hermione’s neck.

“Mon loup. Did you want to taste notre douce petite sorcière?”

Bill was still grinning, when instead of answering he strode towards the two witches, determination clear in his eyes. He stood behind Fleur, pressing the blond more firmly into Hermione.

He leaned down and kissed Hermione, fierce and hungry over Fleur’s shoulder.

“Delicious.” He pulled back and licked his lips, his eyes glittering with something primal.

* * *

_“I was so wet for the rest of the day.”_

_“I had to get Fleur to suck me off in the bathroom so I could function.”_

* * *

It took two more weeks for Hermione to join them in bed.

There was more kissing, and some heavy petting in the interim.

* * *

_“Remember that time that Fleur made you come with one hand up your skirt and the other over your mouth so you wouldn’t make too much noise and disturb me as I was sleeping?”_

_“Yes, I recall that.”_

_“I was awake the entire time.”_

_“I would hope so, because I definitely was not quiet at all.”_

* * *

Their first time, her first time, wasn't magical. It was _good_ , in large part because both Fleur and Bill ate her out before Bill started to fuck her. It was hard at first coordinating with three people in the bed, and there had been a number of misplaced limbs at first.

But Hermione ended up on her back, with Bill between her legs and Fleur straddling her face. And Hermione was thrilled to be there. 

The end saw them collapsed next to each other, sweaty and sated, completely out of breath.

So maybe it was more than good.

* * *

_“It got better once we bought strap-ons for both you girls.”_

_“Well Bill, you certainly found a new source of enjoyment.” Hermione’s tone was dry, but her eyes were sparkling._

_“I’ll own up to it. I think every bloke should try having a little something up his bum.”_

_“I wouldn’t call what we fuck you with little mon loup.”_

* * *

It took longer for them to tell others.

Andromeda knew from the beginning. She was supportive, having seen how Remus was with his mate, her daughter. 

Charlie found out by accident, two months into Hermione living with them. He came over to visit, unannounced. Instead of the warm welcome from his brother and sister-in-law, he found Hermione kneeling on the ground with Bill’s cock in her mouth and her fingers circling Fleur’s clit.

There was a lot of embarrassment, but by half an hour later, they had all dressed and were calming explaining to Charlie that Hermione was _theirs_ and that they were in a triad now.

Charlie thumped Bill on the back, and gave both women his sincere congratulations, along with a demand to be present when they told Molly.

Once Charlie knew, Hermione knew that she needed to tell Harry and Ron. She also invited Ginny because she knew that when Harry knew something it would only be a short matter of time until Ginny found it out.

They took it better than Hermione feared they might. There was a lot of confusions at first, and Ron at one point had called Bill a cradle robber. The most perplexed person by the arrangement was Harry, whose muggle upbringing did not see triads as normal.

But they assured her that as long as she was happy and being treated right, they were supportive.

They also asked to be present when they told Mrs. Weasley.

Next to tell was George. Bill dragged a still-reclusive George from the joke shop to a home cooked meal and told him that Hermione joined their relationship. To his credit, George only looked shocked for a second before he smiled at them, and told them he was happy they found love.

He also asked to be present when they told Mrs. Weasley.

They hadn’t told Percy ahead of time, as there were still hurt feelings from the war. 

But they were sure to invite him to the family dinner where they planned to tell Mrs. Weasley.

* * *

_“I was so nervous to tell Mum.”_

_“I never really understood why that was.”_

_“I love her, but she’s a judge first, ask questions later kind of woman. And I knew that the first thing out of her mouth would not be congratulations. It would be something that would hurt your feelings sweet, or yours love. I remember how she treated you when we first got together. And I remember how cold she was to you Hermione when that nonsense with Skeeter was happening. And the last thing I wanted was to subject either of you to that again.”_

* * *

They exchanged “I love yous” three months into living together. Fleur and Bill were always easy and open in their affection for one another, and their “I love yous” came daily and often.

They had been telling Hermione that they loved her in every way but with words from the time she moved in.

They would hold her through her nightmares. Fleur would help her braid her hair at night. Bill would always have a cup of tea, just like she liked it, waiting for her every morning when she woke up.

They would both hold her and kiss her and touch her in ways that felt almost reverential at times.

Fleur told her she loved her over a romantic dinner that they put together because Bill was away on assignment, and didn’t like oysters. Hermione teared up and kissed Fleur all over, unable to answer at that moment.

Bill told her that he loved her on an excursion to the Museum of London. He was watching her examine a display of ancient Egyptian artifacts and came up behind her, grabbing both of her hips, pulling her close. His admission of love was whispered into her hair. Hermione turned in his arms and given him a searing kiss.

She knew she loved them early on. But she refrained from saying anything at first. It still felt like she was intruding on something sometimes.

And then one day, a random Thursday after Hermione got home from training she was sitting in the living room, her feet in Bill’s lap, her head in Fleur’s. Bill was kind enough to massage her feet, and Fleur finger combed through her hair absently.

It hit her, how content she was. How filled with joy and happiness and _love_ she was in that moment.

She looked up into Fleur’s face and stilled the blonde’s hands with one of hers. Fleur looked down at her, confused.

“I love you Fleur.”

Fleur’s look of confusion immediately morphed into one of joy.

Hermione sat up a little so she could look at Bill, who was smiling softly at his two women.

“Bill, I love you.”

The married couple gathered her between them and showed her how much she meant to them, whispering their love into her skin for the rest of the night.

* * *

_“I always knew my foot rubs were magical.”_

_“I rather thought it was how hard you made her come around your cock that night that really sealed the deal mon loup.”_

_“FLEUR!”_

* * *

The family dinner happened a month after they told George, and five months after Hermione moved in.

They waited until everyone was eating dessert to make their announcement. They purposefully sat on the same side of the table, with Hermione sat between Bill and Fleur. Throughout the meal they touched each other under the table reassuring each other that they were making the right decision and that they were all in this as a team. 

“Hey everyone, may I have your attention?” Bill's voice was loud enough to carry over the long table, and everyone quieted at once.

Charlie flashed him a thumbs up, George and Ron exchanged smirks, and Ginny smiled into her napkin.

“Oh Bill!” Molly interrupted, hands thrown up in the air in excitement. “I’m going to be a grandmother! Of Fleur, how far along are you?”

Bill’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh—uh—no. No mum, that’s not it.”

Mrs. Weasley visibly deflated and then blushed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

A chuckle went down the table. They all knew that Molly was so eager for the first grandchild she could burst.

“No—uh,” Bill cleared his throat and looked to Fleur and then Hermione, who both smiled supportively. “Fleur, Hermione and I are together. We’re live together now.”

Molly’s eyes narrowed. “Together?” Her gaze darted between the three in question.

“Yes. We’re a triad. I love Hermione and Fleur, they love me, and they love each other.”

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. “How long has this been going on. You two better not have _taken advantage_!” She hissed out the last two words, expression fierce.

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up, and she could not contain her expression of surprise. Given the history, she was prepared to be called a homewrecking harlot.

“Melin! No Mum, no. We didn’t—not until—”

Fleur cut in, sparing her husband from further floundering. “No Molly, we knew she was ours for many years, but we did not approach her until six months ago or so.”

Arthur was frowning, looking at them. “Knew? What do you mean, knew?”

“Veela can tell who their mate is. I knew that Hermione was one of my mates the first time I saw her.”

Bill smiled fondly at Hermione. “It took me longer. I didn’t know for sure until after Greyback. When I woke up and sensed Fleur I knew she was mine, but Hermione was also in the room and I knew she belonged with us too.”

“WILLIAM ARTHUR WEASLEY!” Molly bellowed out. “Do you mean to tell me that you knew that Hermione belonged with you when you got MARRIED?”

George, Ron, Charlie, Ginny, Harry, and even Percy were outright grinning at this point. Growing up Bill had gotten in trouble so rarely, that it was a treat to see him get told off even now as an adult.

“Erm,” Bill brought a hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Yes Mum, it’s why we didn’t do a bonding ceremony. There was that legislation about part-humans that Umbridge was pushing through, and I knew we needed to protect Fleur. And Hermione was too young then—”

“Quite right!” Molly broke in, still red with anger.

“But we’re together now, and we love each other.” said Bill with an air of finality.

Molly huffed out a frustrated breath and then made eye contact with Hermione. She then promptly burst into tears.

“Oh Hermione dear, I am so happy that you’re going to be part of the family! Not that you weren’t already but…” Mrs. Weasley stood from her place at the table and walked swiftly to Hermione’s side and gathered up the young woman. Hermione patted Molly’s back awkwardly and made eye contact with Arthur over his wife’s shoulder. He gave her a little grin and also stood from his place at the table to hug his eldest son and daughter-in-law.

Molly finally pulled away and patted her cheeks dry with her apron. She then hugged Fleur and Bill in turn. The other siblings chimed in their congratulations and well wishes too.

A few hours later, Bill, Hermione and Fleur collapsed into bed, happy, but exhausted.

* * *

_“I was surprised it went so well.”_

_“Well you know Mum never really forgave Ron for not marrying you sweet. She loves you like a daughter. So I think she was relieved that one of her sons had been smart enough to snatch you up.”_

_“I’m sure the prospect of another witch to give her grandchildren didn’t hurt either mon loup.”_

* * *

They decided to wait to bond until Hermione finished her apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s.

Two years later, and a month after Hermione officially donned her Healer’s robes, they had a small private ceremony by the sea near the Cottage. The time allowed the three of them to research ritual bondings and find one that would suit them. 

It was a year long endeavor until Gabrielle Delacour visited, bringing with her an old Delacour family book that was languishing in the family’s library.

In it wasn the right ritual.

Everyone said it was the most beautiful ceremony they had ever been to. The three of them performed the second part of the ritual, the part that required sex, in private later that night. 

The bond they felt slide into place was the most magical thing that any of them had ever experienced.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

_“I wish the book had told us that the bond would counteract contraceptive potions for that night.” Hermione said, leaning back into the couch, one hand balanced on her very pregnant stomach._

_Fleur shrugged delicately and wrapped her arms around her wife. “Perhaps. But ma lionne, You are so beautiful swollen with our child.” She kissed the brunette behind her ear and then leaned down to kiss the baby bump._

_“Next time you’re getting pregnant mon coeur.”_

_Bill smiled down at his wives, his mates, his pack. “As long as I’m not the one getting pregnant I have no objections.”_

_Fleur hummed under her breath. “Perhaps we cannot get you pregnant mon loup. But we can certainly try.”_

_Bill’s grin turned filthy. “I am so happy I rubbed off on you, love. The filthy things that come out of your gorgeous mouth bring me such joy.”_

_“You’ve rubbed off on both of us Bill. Plenty of times.” said Hermione dryly. “Now, one of you help me up. I want to see these attempts. Lend a hand.”_

_The trio retreated into the bedroom, holding hands._

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a longer fic (I might make it so in the future), but the plot was bugging me until I finished it.
> 
> French translations courtesy of google translate and four years of high school french I don't remember
> 
> Mon âme = my soul  
> Ma lionne = my lioness  
> Mon loup = my would  
> Mon coeur = my heart  
> Notre douce petite sorcière = our sweet little witch  
> Je t'aime (aussi) = I love you (too)  
> Bébé = baby  
> Soucis = worry


End file.
